Heir to Eternity
by XxTheMoonRiddlexX
Summary: As the train rushed out of the station, Merlin turned to thank the person behind him. A pair of very familiar blue eyes gazed back. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. Everything else seemed to fade away except for one thought: 'Arthur Pendragon is alive again.'


**This may turn into a longer fic, but for now it's going to stay a one-shot, at least until I finish Return of Emrys and my other unfinished stories. Just wanted to try writing my own version of a Merlin Reincarnation fic. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or its characters. They belong to BBC and Shine.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Merlin**

_Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold. So take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, _

_Arthur will rise again._

_The story they have been a part of will live long in the minds of men;_

_And so long as their tale is not forgotten, those who have left this world for the shores of Avalon may one day return._

_They may not know who they were, or what they will become,_

_but there will be One who does, and he will help them remember,_

_and he shall gather them at the Round Table once more._

_His name: Emrys._

**_[London / June 2016]_**

Merlin leaned against the white tile wall of the platform with the hint of a smile on his face. He was waiting for the train that would take him from Paddington station to Euston Square. He was tired, and his feet ached from walking on streets made of three different kinds of cobblestones, but despite these things, he was happy. Gwen had invited him to come with her to Oxford for the day. He had gone with her, and in truth, it probably had done him good to leave London's cold, windy avenues behind for a few hours. It had also provided a much needed distraction from his ongoing search for Arth—

_'__No,' T_he warlock forced the thought away, _'Don't think about him now. You're happy and want to stay that way'._ His smile became somewhat forced as he concentrated hard on forcing the memories that threatened to flood his mind at that moment out of his head.

The continuous rumble of trains barreling through the station echoed through the tunnels like thunder. The gusts of air that always accompanied the Tube ruffled his hair; he gazed with disinterest at the large poster advertisements on the wall across the track from him. His thoughts began to turn to earlier that day. He and Gwen had walked around Oxford for hours, pausing occasionally to go into a shop or one of the thirty-something schools that made up the university. It wasn't as though Merlin hadn't been to the academically-renowned town before—in fact, he had visited it a number of times over the centuries— but he hadn't been there in the last thirty years or so, which led to his decision to go with Gwen, in order update his view of the place. It was Gwen's second time there, this lifetime at least.

The train Merlin had been waiting for sped into the station, coming to an abrupt halt before him with the screech of metal brakes meeting metal rail. It was rush hour, and crowds of people were making their way home on the Tube. He and Gwen had parted ways once they'd gotten off the train from Oxford earlier that evening.

With a sigh, he pushed off the wall and made his way forward with the crowd. It was a tight squeeze, but he made it on the train. With a jolt, the Tube began pulling out of Paddington Station and the warlock stumbled into a man behind him before he could grab the closest yellow handhold. Merlin was startled when he felt an a hand press against his back, steadying him. Tightening his grip around the smooth metal, Merlin turned to thank his fellow passenger, only to find a pair of very familiar blue eyes looking back at him. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. Everything else seemed to fade away except for one thought: '_Arthur Pendragon is alive again.'_

"You okay?" The man—_Arthur_—asked him.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked in disbelief. The train's brakes screeched as it pulled into the next station.

Arthur gave him a quizzical look. "Yes? Have we met?"

Merlin's heart fell. Of course Arthur would not remember his past life. "I—I just thought I recognized you from somewhere." Merlin said.

"Oh." Arthur gave him another odd look. Merlin turned away, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on the handhold.

When Merlin reached his stop, he muttered a quick farewell to Arthur as he exited the train. He was still in shock when he finally arrived at his flat on Fitzroy Street. His hands shook slightly as he unlocked his front door and slipped inside. The warlock stood inside the darkened flat, keys clasped tightly in his right hand. He could feel tears coming to his eyes and he blinked, quickly wiping them away with the back of his free hand for a few seconds. When the tears kept coming, he realized it was useless to try and stop them, so he let his hand fall to his side.

He didn't know how long he stood there like that, his eyes closed and tears falling down his face as he remembered the man who had been his greatest friend, and who it was his destiny to serve until only the gods knew when**.**

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile when the memory of his first meeting with Arthur flashed through his mind.

* * *

_Merlin saw a nobleman's servant drop a large wooden target, which rolled towards him. When it reached him, he put a foot on top of it to stop the servant from picking it up. _

_"__Hey, come on, that's enough." He called to the three knights who had been tormenting the servant. They were laughing a few meters away. Their leader had blonde hair, and wore light armor over his red shirt. The sword in the scabbard at his hip as well as the way he walked, gave Merlin the impression that the man was an aristocratic prat with no sense of humility._

_"__What?" The blonde looked offended that Merlin was actually talking to him._

_"__You've had your fun, my friend." Merlin said, trying for a friendly approach._

_"__Do I know you?" The man's voice had an imperious tone to it._

_"__Er, I'm Merlin." Merlin held his hand out to shake._

_"__So I don't know you." The man didn't reciprocate the gesture. _

_Merlin decided that this man was in fact as arrogant as he looked, if not more so. "No_," _He let his hand drop. He'd tried to be nice. If the this man didn't want to be friendly, then Merlin wouldn't waste time trying to keep up that pretense. _

_"__Yet you called me' friend',"_

_"__That was my mistake." Merlin agreed._

_"__Yes, I think so."_

_ "__Yeah. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." With that, Merlin turned and began to walk away. 'Just let this one go,' he thought, 'It isn't worth losing your head over.__ It's one man mistreating another. You can't stop every one of them. You're a sorcerer in Camelot for heaven sakes! Just keep your head down and—'_

_"__Or I one who could be so stupid."_

_Merlin stopped walking. That entitled prat! He needed to be taught a lesson. As soon as he'd had that thought, however, Merlin could hear his mother's voice (or maybe it was Gaius's) telling him not to act on it._

_The blonde—a knight, judging by the armor—approached Merlin. "Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?"_

_"__No."_

_"__Would you like me to help you?"_

_Merlin felt his magic pulse angrily through him at the knight's threat. He tightened his hands into fists, fighting to restrain it before it made an all too suspicious appearance in front of the whole of Camelot. _That_ was certainly something the young sorcerer did not need right now, especially when facing off with this less-than-honorable excuse for a knight, but a knight of magic-hating Camelot nonetheless. "I wouldn't if I were you." Merlin replied. Even if it would be stupid to do so, he was just itching to let loose his magic on the cocky man before him. _

_The blonde scoffed. "Why? What are _you_ going to do to me?"_

_"__You have no idea." Merlin met his adversary's goading blue eyes unwaveringly. He meant every bit of what he'd said._

_"__Be my guest! Come on! Come on! Come oooooon," The knight taunted. At that moment, Merlin was overcome by the temptation to plant a well deserved punch right on the bastard's face _

_Merlin took a swing at him. The blonde was faster. He grabbed Merlin's arm and had it twisted behind the warlock's back before he could react._

_"__I'll have you thrown in jail for that." The knight hissed in Merlin's ear_

_ "__What, who do you think you are? The king?" Merlin retorted angrily. He struggled fruitlessly to free himself from the knight's iron grip. _

_ "__No. I'm his son, Arthur." _

_Oops._

_Of course he, Merlin, would have the rotten luck of insulting the king's son in the marketplace. As he was led down to the castle dungeons by two guards dressed in the red and gold garb of Camelot, Merlin was consoled by the thought that at least he'd given Prince Arthur a piece of his mind before he was arrested._

* * *

The clock on the stove in the kitchen beeped, startling Merlin out of his memories. His tears had dried, so he could clearly read the time on the clock; it was with some surprise that he saw it was already half past ten at night. Right then. "First things first, Merlin," he told himself. But what to do first? There were so many things he could do, now that he knew Arthur had returned.

He supposed he should probably give Guinevere a call, to let her know that he'd finally found Arthur…and that Arthur didn't seem to remember him. However, before he did that, he should probably turn on some lights — especially given his tendency to trip over every other bloody thing in his path.

His eyes flashed gold**,** and one by one the lights in his flat came on. The living room lamps came on first, illuminating a cheap gray sofa that had belonged to the previous owner, a few London Evening Standard newspapers strewn about the wooden coffee table, and the cream-colored carpet that covered the floor of almost the entire flat. Next the kitchen lights flickered on, illuminating the small kitchen with its clean white counter and old electric stove. A small, round table (oh the irony) sat in the back corner of the kitchen.

Merlin deposited his blue satchel onto the couch on his way to the kitchen. Pulling out his cellphone (yes, it was a _smart_phone — it wasn't like he lived in the dark ages anymore) he dialed Gwen's number and waited for her to answer. While he waited, Merlin discarded his black raincoat and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter.

"Hello, Merlin," Gwen answered after the eighth ring, stifling a yawn as she spoke.

Merlin, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the stove. The glowing green numbers read 10:49 PM. (That was on the late side, wasn't it?) "I'm sorry about calling so late, Gwen, but I needed to tell you about…About what just happened on my way home." He wondered how she would take the news. Maybe he should have waited until the morning?

"What happened? Did you find someone else?" Gwen asked, concerned. She always had been good at sensing what Merlin was trying to say, even before he said it.

"Yes," Merlin paused, preparing to break the news. "He's here, Gwen. Arthur. He's somewhere in the city. I just ran into him on the Tube."

There was silence on the other end of the line for quite some time. "Are you sure it was him?" Gwen asked, suddenly sounding wide awake.

"Yes. I'm certain of it." He answered. And internally, he knew there could be no doubt.

After so many centuries of waiting, Arthur had finally returned.


End file.
